


Unwind

by Forestwater



Series: Forestfuckery [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, basically episode 8 of season 1 but if gwenvid were fucking, canon deleted scene, canon-divergent, finally putting my tumblr stuff on ao3, fluffy sex, welcome to the forestfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater
Summary: Some days at Camp Campbell are more difficult than others. Luckily, Gwen always knows how to help him come down.(Originally published on tumblr Sept. 2017)





	Unwind

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially written in the summer of 2017, posted to [my tumblr](https://forestwater87.tumblr.com) in September of the same year. If it looks familiar, then thank you for following me! If not, I hope you enjoy it, and be gentle; that was over a year ago, and I like to think I've gotten marginally better since then.

“Hnnnh.”

Gwen glanced up at the noise as David stumbled into the common room, looking dead on his feet and … okay, she should be horrified,  _definitely_  shouldn’t laugh at the singe marks and — what was he  _wearing?_

_[I’m not going to bother rewriting the dialogue of episode 8 because that’s boring af. I’ll either skip it or replace it because I’m a rebel]_

She stood, setting her book aside — just at the good part,  _of course_ , great fucking timing David — and helped him out of the flag (at least she thought it was a flag) around his neck. She pinched out the small flame in his hair and held up the kids’ handiwork. “Campe Deez Nuts.” She snorted. “That’s actually a better motto than the one we have now.”

Normally David would’ve scolded her for making fun of Camp Campbell, but he just groaned, slumping against the wall.

“Christ, you look terrible.” Maybe she shouldn’t have trusted him when he said that he had everything “totally under control!” Shaking some of the ashes out of his clothes, she asked, “Max?”

“All of them.” His head fell forward, resting on her shoulder with a sigh that sounded like it came from the soles of his feet. “But, yeah, mostly Max.”

“Poor baby,” she teased, carding her fingers through his hair. She blamed the jolt that shot through her stomach at the way he groaned again and leaned into her touch on  _Butts & Bodices_. “You okay?”

“Tired,” he mumbled against her neck. Gwen shrugged her shoulder, forcing him to lift his head and look at her. His eyes were half-mast, his face flushed and sweaty, his mouth just slightly open. It was unfortunate how “exhausted and nearly dead” David looked  _so very much_  like “in the process of having his brains fucked out” David.

“Come on.” She took his arm and steered him into the bathroom, setting him down on the closed toilet seat lid and kneeling in front of him with a damp cloth. “I’d tell you to shower,” she murmured, wiping the worst of the soot off his face and inspecting for burns (luckily his clothes seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage, and aside from a few sensitive red patches on his arms he was more or less unharmed), “but I think you’d probably collapse.”

David’s only response was a weak huff of air.

“Well, what’s that bullshit you always say? We learned a valuable lesson today, right?” A weary smile tugged at his lips and she couldn’t help but return it. “Now you get why sometimes we don’t always need to ‘look on the bright side.’”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse and weak. “You don’t … don’t have to …”

Christ, he looked like he was gonna die. “Well  _you_  sure as fuck can’t,” she replied, tugging him to his feet and turning on the water. They didn’t have a bathtub, so she tugged his shirt over his head; once he got the hint and started removing his belt — without any embarrassment about changing in front of her! God, he really  _was_ exhausted — she grabbed a clean towel and folded it in half, laying it on the shower floor as a barrier against germs. (David was meticulously clean, but this was still Campbell’s property, and more than once she’d seen mouse shit in the corners of the bathroom. She wasn’t taking any chances.) She gestured toward the towel, yanking off her own shirt. “Sit.” When he just stared at her for a second, looking adorably lost, she rolled her eyes and lightly shoved him in the shower’s direction. “I’m pretty sure if you try standing you’ll pass out and drown, but there’s no way in fuck I’m letting you get ash and who knows what all over our cabin.”

David settled down on the towel, sitting cross-legged with his hands folded in his lap. His head was bowed, as though weighed down by the running water, and he didn’t even look up as she grabbed the shampoo and knelt in front of him (which, Gwen didn’t consider herself a supermodel or anything, but she  _was_  wet and naked. Under normal circumstances she’d expect that to warrant some attention).

“Head up.” It took a few seconds for his muscles to respond, so she held his chin with one hand and drizzled the translucent pink slime on top of his head, feeling a strange blend of motherly and … well, something very  _not_  motherly as she worked her fingers through his hair.

He hummed, his eyes drifting shut. “Thank you, Gwen.”

Even when he wasn’t in danger of falling asleep upright David had an irritating tendency to act like every halfway decent thing she did was some grand noble gesture. His bar for “shit worth thanking someone for” was almost disturbingly low, and she never knew how to respond to his gratitude. “I think that’s good,” she mumbled instead of responding, checking to make sure she’d gotten all the shampoo out before reaching for the soap. “I’m gonna try to avoid the burn marks, but this might hurt anyway.”

It was weird; watching the pink and cream colors of her boyfriend emerge from under the smears of carbon, it seemed like she was unearthing his personality too. He still looked wrecked, for sure, but as she turned the water off he opened his eyes, giving her a sunny smile.  
“Thanks,” he said again, and this time he sounded more like a human and less like a zombie. “I really do feel much better!” (His voice had an exclamation mark — crooked and wobbly, but definitely there.)

Gwen took his face in her hands, giving him a kiss on the forehead before hauling him to his feet. “You look better,” she agreed, ruffling his hair until it stopped dripping and stuck up in all directions. “Like a real boy again.”

He chuckled, taking the towel she’d grabbed from the closet and wrapping it around himself like a cape. She went into his room to get clean clothes, and when she returned he was standing exactly where she’d left him, staring at the corner of the room, his eyes glazed and heavy as he dripped on the tile.

“For fuck’s sake.” She snagged the towel from around his shoulders and dried him off, draping it over the top of his head when she was done. “You’re pathetic.”

His reflexes slow and sleepy, it took a second for him to lift the fabric up enough to see. “S-sorry! I guess I zoned out there for a minute.”

“No kidding.” Gwen snorted, shoving the clean clothes at him. “Think you can handle dressing yourself, counselor?”

David blushed and looked away, fumbling with the clothing. “Ye-es, of course I can.”

Not entirely confident she believed him, she went off to her own room and got changed. When she emerged he was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, rumpled but fully clothed. He followed her to the common area and collapsed in one of the big chairs, but when she moved to take the other he let out a distressed squeak, holding onto her wrist loosely.

“Can you, uh, stay here?” His eyes were big and hopeful, his damp lashes sticking together in spiky clumps. “I just  … I dunno, missed you.”

She knew the feeling. Being the only grownup against the kids was oddly lonely, not to mention discouraging. So she only gave him a small eyeroll before settling down next to him. They barely fit together, and Gwen had to lay on her side with her arm flung across his waist,  but it was nice. “What d'you need?” she murmured, tracing the pine tree on his shirt.

David hummed, his chin resting on the top of her head and his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “This is good.”

They lay like that for a while, Gwen wasn’t sure how long. Long enough to get through an episode of whatever stupid crime drama was on TV, anyway. The TV was muted, but neither of them were paying much attention anyway. She barely had it in her to keep her eyes open, and she assumed David had fallen asleep when he mumbled, “They’re … they can be difficult, can’t they?”

It took her brain a moment to start back up. “The campers?” He nodded, a movement she felt on the top of her head and against her cheek. “You’re just noticing that now?”

He snuggled her tighter, trailing his fingers up and down her arm. “It was just a long day. A little frustrating, I dunno.” He sighed wearily. “I wish they appreciated how hard it is to … to do everything we do for them.”

Gwen tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his throat. “I appreciate the fuck out of it, if it helps. Being a counselor is way more of a pain in the ass than I thought it’d be.” She kissed his neck, not trying to start anything, but … well, it was right  _there_ , all warm and sweet-smelling and inviting, and she’d never been good at denying herself.

“Mmmn.” His head fell back with a sigh, and she wriggled up to reach him better, sitting up on her elbow so her upper body was hovering over him. He cupped her jaw with one hand and drew her forward into a kiss, forcing more of her weight onto him.

Normally when they were together, it was hurried and desperate, frantic grappling after a day of pretending to be just coworkers, when they were both keyed up and thrumming with restless frenetic energy. This, though, this kind of lazy making out, slow and languid and soft and sighing … this was new.

“How” — like everything else, talking was hard to do fast, especially when his lips were so close and it was too easy to lean forward and capture them — “how far do you — want this to go?” Her fingers skated the hem of his shirt, tugging on it playfully, not enough to untuck it but enough to definitely get him thinking in that direction.

David turned his attention to her jaw, holding her close as his mouth traveled slowly down her skin. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “I’m, um,” he swallowed and cleared his throat, “a little worn out. I don’t — I might not …”

He was so cute when he was embarrassed. “Yeah, don’t want you falling asleep on top of me,” she teased, turning her head to kiss him again. She shifted so that she was straddling him, her knees caging in his hips and her weight resting firmly on his lap, where — “But you seem kinda interested.”

He looked away, his face and neck flushing pink even as he twitched against her. “W-well, I mean, you’re very … good at that.”

Gwen couldn’t bite back her grin. “At what?” she asked, running one hand through his hair. “Kissing?” She ground her hips down, watching with satisfaction as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. “At that?”

“Ah … all of it,” he replied weakly, his head still leaned back and his eyes still closed.

“I’m a woman of many talents,” she agreed with a smirk, walking her fingers down his stomach. His muscles jolted under her fingertips, tiny uncontrolled tremors. “Can I show off?”

David opened his eyes, watching her warily. His breaths were already growing shallow and uneven, his pupils just a little too large and round. He opened his mouth, then swallowed hard and just nodded.

Gwen slid off the chair; normally she’d kneel in front of him, but in this kind of chair that’d require putting the footrest down, and he still didn’t look like he could handle sitting upright without falling over. So instead she rested her weight on the thick padded arm, nudging his thighs open and bracing one hand against the cushion and palming his thickening erection with the other, relishing the way David’s breath hitched. With one hand she undid his belt — a skill she’d developed thanks to a number of quickies in the storage closet or supply room — and pulled him free. A few gentle, leisurely strokes and he was fully hard, warm and pulsing in her fingers. A few more and he was squirming beneath her, arching his back just slightly.

His eyes were still closed, his breathing speeding up as her hand did, and when she leaned forward and closed her mouth around him he jerked his hips up with a strangled whine. “Ohh g-gosh,” he gasped, his fingernails dragging into the fabric of the chair as his hands curled into loose fists. Her stomach tightened, a rush of heat hitting her so hard she slowed her movements — which prompted a deep shuddering sigh, so good she kept the same steady pace, swirling her tongue around him with almost torturous attention dedicated to the sensitive spot under his head.

David was panting now, one hand leaving the cushion to tangle gently in her hair. “Pl-please, keep … doing that,” he managed, and she could feel the way his fingers were shaking.

Well, she wasn’t one to take orders, but he’d had a rough day. Hollowing her cheeks, she took him as deep as she could without gagging (well, mostly. She overestimated her abilities once, and his strangled moan was enough to make her repeat it as many times as she could stand), and his grip on her hair tightened painfully.

“W —” He paused, and for a second she thought he couldn’t speak, but then his fingers loosened and she realized he was actually shy. Gwen made a questioning hum, and the vibration made him buck up against her. “Ss-sorry, but would you … fa-aster, please?”

Oh, she  _loved_  when he asked for things like that. He had no idea what he was in for.

She continued her unhurried bobbing long enough to shift her weight, pressing one hand against his chest and one on his left thigh; he wasn’t pinned down, exactly, but it was about as close as she could get in this position. David squeaked in surprise, a sound that got caught in his throat as she sped up without warning, digging her nails into his skin.

“Haa- ohhh god ohgodohgod …” He couldn’t fuck her mouth, not held down like he was, but he writhed as much as he could underneath her, his hands clenching into fists and then uncurling. His breathing was way too hard for what was supposed to be a way to help him unwind and relax, but Gwen had a suspicion he wouldn’t appreciate it if she stopped and told him this.

(And god, was she tempted to do it. But not today, not when he’d been this strung-out and wretched. There’d be plenty of opportunities to torment him; this was about something very different.)

David moaned again, keening and desperate. “Gw-Gwe-ehhn — I — ffffu-ucking  _god_ Gwennn —” Every muscle in his body went taut, quaking, shuddering twitches as he came, his cock pulsing against her tongue and spilling down her throat as he arched his back with a high-pitched whine, almost a scream. When he relaxed, sighing, she pulled off him, licking him clean and tucking him back into his shorts.

Gwen scooted back up his body, stretching out along his side and leaning her head against his. “Better?” she murmured, fingertips dragging along the collar of his shirt.

 _“Haaahh,”_  he breathed, tilting his head to meet her lips. “Tha-ank you.” She smiled, kissing him again. After a few minutes, as his breathing and heart rate slowed, he ran his hand up the side of her hip and said, “Do you need … ?”

Gwen smirked. David’s eyes were practically falling shut, his movements sluggish and weak. He hadn’t had much energy to begin with, and she’d milked every drop. “I’m fine. You can owe me.”

Even though he was dangerously close to falling asleep, his brow furrowed in concern. “B-but what about —”

She shook her head. “It’s not bad.” And it wasn’t; her arousal was a pleasant buzzing, warm tingles that were insistent but not desperate, and it honestly didn’t feel worth the effort to take care of it herself. Squeezing her thighs together and shivering at the slight pressure on her clit, she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his smell. “It’s nap time.”

His arm came back around her. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, already sounding far away.

“Probably not. But you’re stuck with me anyway.”

He laughed softly and kissed her forehead. “G'night. Love you.”

Gwen mumbled indistinctly, and that was the last thing she remembered until waking up stiff and sore the next morning.

**Author's Note:**

> In the [first draft](https://forestwater87.tumblr.com/post/165204892796/i-am-the-same-anon-demanding-more-smut-make-my) of this, there was an unfortunate case of subject-verb agreement which unintentionally led to me implying David's dick screamed. That's been scrubbed out of this one, but if you'd like to try and find it you can check out the version I never got around to correcting.


End file.
